


The Christmas Party

by kapakoscheisigma



Category: Lewis (TV), Midsomer Murders
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapakoscheisigma/pseuds/kapakoscheisigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to my first story here, how Hathaway got the punch inside him!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christmas Party

When CS Innocent announced that there would be a massive office Christmas Party to raise money for charity and attendance for senior officers was compulsory Lewis started to wish with serious fervour for murder, which he felt guilty about. When he went back to their office and informed James the lad looked momentarily horrified before allowing his head to fall on the desk with a thunk accompanied by a moan.

“Don’t you do Christmas then James?”

“No,” he said with feeling.

“You do surprise me, what with your faith and that. Still, it’s only senior officers that have to attend on pain of death. You have two days to come up with an excuse.”

James said up and stared at his miserable looking boss. “If you attend then I will Sir,” he said loyally. “And Sir, in point of fact, I do do Christian proper Christmas, in case you want to know. I play guitar for the kids at their crib service, I go to midnight mass and they normally rope me to serve in the morning as everyone else is busy with their families. I just don’t do all the pagan rites and family,” he said sniffily, and Lewis worried he may have gone on to a huge sermon about the Light of the World to distract him that behind this facade he had just told his boss he was completely alone every Christmas but fortunately they were saved by the bell.

That is the telephone rang.

When James got off he looked at his boss. “That was a DS Ben Jones from Causton CID in Midsomer. Apparently over the past two weeks they’ve been have more and more bizarre killings, one every other day, in villages and hamlets in a line heading north-east. The next logical target crosses the border. His boss wants to meet in the village.”

The drive to the Midsomer border was unnaturally quiet, as it was when his sergeant felt he’d let too much of himself out. Six months ago Lewis had taken the weird gift of the Yorkie Bar and Loaded magazine as an appeal to go back to normal, forget the question, forget the lies. Poor James, he didn’t realise he’d answered the question. He didn’t say no, therefore he wasn’t heterosexual. End off. After that it was just a case of detection, watching his sergeant in idle moments. Did he watch boys and girls or just boys? The result of the observations should have disturbed him, worried him, bothered him. And they did, but not for the reasons he supposed. The poor boy looked at him. Sure, his eyes wandered sometimes, as we all did, but only to men, and older men at that. But he was smitten. Lewis wondered why it had taken him so long to notice it.

Smitten and guilty and so full of self-hatred, his attack on Will had been self-directed, of course. Stupid boy.

Lewis had had dealings with DI Tom Barnaby before. He shuddered as he got out of the car; feeling as he always did on the hinterland between Midsomer and Oxfordshire as if he’d wandered onto the set of an old hammer Horror or the Twilight Zone. And it was twilight now. They agreed a joint operation, to flood the village with uniform officers in the hope to scare away the nutter if nothing else. He seemed to be killing to a Christmas theme, the first death had hung up in a pear tree with a dead partridge attached to him, the second, a woman, with two turtle doves, and so on. Only in Midsomer, mused Lewis. Although this village was two in one, modern development sprawl joining them together and crossing the border. A logistic nightmare that was happening more and more.

On the way back Lewis couldn’t resist teasing James. “That DS was cute, don’t you think? Ben something?”

James skidded the car. “What is this Sir?” he snapped. “Are you fishing again? I thought I made it clear...”

“Aye, as mud. I was only saying, cute lad. Attractive. Do you like dark haired men?”

James gave up denial, “What is this, trying to set me up on a date? One, I don’t do dates; you know that. Two, he only had eyes for his DI. Three...”

“Maybe I had me eye him for meself,” Lewis said roughly, looking out of the window. “I know you don’t do dates Sergeant, but I have no doubt Ben does.”

“He still only had eyes for his DI,” James snapped tartly.

“Tom’s married. And if you met Joyce you wouldn’t go anywhere near him.”

They drove back up the A4074 in deep silence.

James spent the next two days in deep silent contemplation, only speaking to his boss when forced to and giving him sideways, nervous glances. Ben was dark. Val had been dark. His boss was what, bisexual, but he liked dark hair. He was doomed.

The Midsomer 12 Days of Christmas murderer was apprehended, but not before his eighth victim was killed. Watching Hobson and the Causton pathologist scrap over who had the right over the body. Hobson lost, as Barnaby was leading the investigation. “See you at the party,” she said flirtatiously to Lewis. “Wait ‘til you see what I’m wearing Robbie.” James folded his arms and scowled at her and once back in Oxford rushed out to go shopping.

James hated parties and so did his boss, apparently, although you would know it. James slouched in the corner, strategically placed handily near the punch and watched as Lewis flirted with Hobson, laughed and joked with Grainger, air kissed Laxton and talked with many DCs and PCs, making them all seem special. He had that knack. Several woman asked him to dance as the evening went on, and he refused ungraciously. Two men approached, drunk and giggling, with mistletoe. The women had called him gay and uptight, the men called him frigid and uptight. And they were right, of course. He hated himself.

Lewis hadn’t looked in his direction once, so busy being the social butterfly. And he’d bought these jeans so tight especially, and been so careful with his make up. The party got louder. The raffle was announced, then the amount of money they had raised for a local kids’ charity. Slow music replaced the loud pop. People draped themselves over each other, people married or in relationships that would regret their actions in the morning.

“Are you having a good time?” a voice said in his ear. It was Lewis.

“No’ particurallily,” James slurred.

“Well, I would ask you for the last dance but the office gossip would be a killer. So I’ll drive you home, you’ve had far too much punch. Come on my pet,” Lewis said, putting a steady strong arm around his waist.

The cold air with a nip of snow strung his face and sobered him up, fast. “What are we doing?”

“Going to yours to pack a bag. You think I’ll leave you alone now I know. You’re spending Christmas with me. Anything else is up to you and an added bonus.”

“Else?” James asked, confused, stumbling over by Lewis’ car. Lewis caught him and they stayed like that, James bent over backwards the car bonnet, Lewis with his hands over his waist.”

“Yeah, anything else like this...” and Lewis was kissing him and he was kissing back and oh God, his boss had been dropping hints every since the summer that he was bisexual and he’d not noticed and this felt so right and... He pouted like a spoiled child when Lewis broke the kiss. “More please,” he demanded, still slurring slightly.

Robbie laughed, “Yeah, sure, in the warm, away from where anyone from work can find us. As much and as far as you like. Now get in the car, soft lad, and I’ll drive you home. Tell me if I need to stop at a chemist on the way.”

James looked sideways, through his eyelashes. He was drunk, it was true, but he’d been so desperate for this for so long. “Yeah, stop at the chemist.” He had a horrible thought he’d miss judged everything. “You’re going to screw me, right?”

Lewis laughed, “Only if you want me to. Do you?”

“Yes. Oh yes. Definitely yes!”

“Well, right then pet, let’s get you home,” and he started the car.

It was the best Christmas James had had for years. And somehow, with such love surrounding him he didn’t even feel wrong about still going to Midnight Mass and receiving the Host. God was Love and Robbie loved him.


End file.
